Puss in Boots and the Cheshire Cat
by Tormentor488
Summary: Drabble. Slight Haruko/Naota. Had to write it while it was fresh in my mind.
"Puss in Boots?" Haruko read the title of the script curiously. "Your school doing a production? I found it in your bag, Takkun."

The boy raised an agitated eyebrow at the woman, annoyed with her behavior, though he wasn't surprised.

"Why're you digging through stuff that doesn't belong to you?" He'd just finished washing up and had returned to his room for the evening. She was sitting on the bottom bunk- his bunk- with her guitar leaning beside her.

"You excited to play your part? When's opening night?" She sidestepped his question, as she had a penchant for doing. Deflection was her way of life. Whether it be through over-the-top humor or flat-out ignoring people. Clearly, she was amused by the idea of a school play. Especially if it meant a chance to embarrass her Takkun.

"Plays are for kids. Ninamori is kidding herself if she thinks I'll play a stupid cat."

"A cat!" Haruko beamed and jumped to her feet, startling Naota. "Takkun the cat! No way! That's great. Kodak. Remember that, Naota? A Kodak moment. What year is this?"

"There you go again, spouting your usual nonsense. I don't know what you're talking about. And I'm not a cat, because I'm not doing the stupid play." Haruko sensed the sour shift in his mood as she usually did, but decided to reel things back for once. As much as she enjoyed teasing him, the little facade of hers could get exhausting. And so rarely was she genuine with him. That being said, she had no intention of becoming too attached to him. Atomsk was the mission.

"Why not?" She considered her usual pet name for a moment, but relented. "Naota? You've got the ears for it. Y'know." She grinned her catty, wide grin. It was the kind of smile that made Naota's stomach flutter, and he hated himself for it every time. Each time he saw it, he swore he'd quell the joy that flooded his empty head. His brain must have really been gone, though, because he couldn't seem to remember the resolve. The last thing he wanted was to have feelings for the psycho cleaning lady.

"Well, it's not my choice." He finally came into the room from the doorway, cat ears occasionally flicking away moisture from his shower. "You're the one digging in people's heads. You stick your paws on everything that isn't yours. My bag, my head, my room, my brother's bunk." Despite his criticisms, her expression only brightened at his selection of words.

"My paws? Am I a cat, too, Takkun? If you're the Puss in Boots, am I the Cheshire Cat?"

Naota's face was quizzical a moment, considering her words. "Cheshire Cat? It sounds English. Is that from one of those fairy tales?"

"Alice in Wonderland. Mrrrreow." She sat on his bed again, then laid down. She remained still a moment before rolling over, head hanging over the bed to stare at the boy. He took a seat in his office chair beside his desk.

"That's my bunk," he scolded. "Don't mess up my sheets."

"What's the point of making a bed?" The woman sighed and brushed the few stray strands of hair off of her forehead. "You'll just mess it up again anyways."

Her childish sulking both amused and agitated him. He couldn't help but laugh quietly. "For a cleaning lady, you aren't very tidy."

"I'm in training."

"Right." Naota rested an arm on his desk and the other on the back of his chair. His gaze drifted aimlessly along the wall opposite to him. A general silence followed and persisted a few minutes after his last comment. Each lost in thought yet nearly thoughtless simultaneously.

"Don't you hate that?" It was Haruko who broke the silence. Naota's trance snapped and he nearly jumped. Fortunately, he managed to tense his muscles. He knew it'd have meant relentless teasing from Haruko.

"Huh?" His right cat ear flickered.

"Those troublesome little silences. Where you don't know what to say. It's like a blank page. You never know what to write until you've already jotted something down. Right?" Though he was confused as to what exactly she was getting at, he couldn't deny he enjoyed these candid moments with her. Commonly interspersed between evenings. They were always fleeting, and made him strangely anxious for reasons he didn't understand.

Deep in his mind, he supposed maybe he felt compelled to seize something, and each failure to do so was her eluding him. He didn't know how to latch on to the things she said, or what he'd do if he could. The want always lingered, though.

He had a sneaking suspicion there was a Haruko below the Haruko he saw every morning. And maybe that was the most frustrating thing of all. He knew no way to verbalize those feelings. The situation was like endlessly shifting sand, or a rippling surface of water. Nothing could be traced.

There was nothing to hold onto. And, sometimes, when they were together, he wasn't sure if he was above or below the surface. The idea of drowning frightened him, but Haruko's grin could make even that exhilarating.

"Why does this only happen when we wind down for the evening?" He couldn't think of another way to articulate the notion, but he figured maybe they could map out the surface together. If she asked enough questions, maybe they could make out a pattern, at least.

"Would it be meaningful if it was all the time?" Her direct reply instantly made his eyes lock on her playful face. Barely anything was asked, and he already knew. Everything he had so much trouble internalizing and navigating was already known by her. She knew exactly what he meant. She knew what she was doing, and these genuine moments didn't escape her attention. That detail was another that made Naota feel small and ignorant.

Like a child.

With it, a worse notion washed over him. A scarier and intricate thought he couldn't fully grasp, but it's shadow danced along the edges of his brain, wherever that might be now. If she deliberately played up her hammy behavior and lowered it at will, was she just stringing him along? Playing with him? Is it a distraction a child couldn't understand? Was it a plaything only cynical, jaded adults could find amusement in?

"I'm not acting in that play." He slumped over the back of the chair, mouth sinking into his folded arms. He knew she'd detect his sulky tone and obvious shift in behavior, but he couldn't help himself. He'd already resigned himself to the bitter possibility everything she did was an act.

There was a warm stinging in the corners of his eyes. No tears fell, however. He wouldn't allow that.

"Who's talking about the play?" She rolled over and onto her knees, some urgency in her voice. "What did you want to say before?" Haruko cocked her head and a thin, subdued smile spread across her face. "C'mon. Don't pout." His heart lurched again, and he hated himself for it. It especially pained him to consider the smile that made him fall in love with her every single time he saw it was subterfuge.

"Do you care about anyone?" It slipped past his lips before his teeth could cage it. Both because it seemed too far and, truthfully, he didn't think he wanted the answer she was likely to give. Or wouldn't give. Maybe the latter was the worse alternative. The thing he could stand the least was ambiguity. Indifference. A maybe is more painful than a no. A denial spares nothing. Shoots you dead. Eliminates all hope. Gives you closure.

Maybe was cancer.

"Where'd that come from?" She draped her legs over the edge of the bed now, assuming a more active posture.

While Naota was dying to tell her, he was also afraid of saying the wrong things. Both because he wasn't sure he knew how to word his emotions, and he didn't know what she'd think even if he did. What if he scared her off? Or worse? Kept her around, but closed her off? Emotional unavailability was equally as cancerous as a maybe.

It's why Naota often opted to play along with her ridiculous ruses. To yell and laugh with her on a thin surface of lies. Playing his part. A boy playing a man. Like a cat in boots, it didn't work. Suddenly, he realized how ridiculous he must look to adults. Especially, to Haruko.

 _Plays are for kids._

"What a damn mess." Fighting the tears was a losing endeavor now, and he knew it. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to conceal his eyes in time. Haruko, like a cat, was on him in an instant. He was in no mood for her shenanigans.

Her hands fell on his shoulders, and he instinctively shrugged away from them, and tried to fall into himself. To shield his pathetic, childish face from her view.

His attempts were in vain, however. Naota's shoulders never managed to slip from her grasp.

"Hey," she was whispering, voice not at all mocking. "Hey, Naota. Look at me, 'kay?" He resisted another moment or two, opting to rub his eyes. His shoulders were tensed, fruitlessly trying to keep himself from shaking. He'd begun crying, but he didn't want to break out into pathetic, baby-ish sobbing.

When he finally afforded himself a glance, all he could see through his muddled vision was her Cheshire grin.

He hoped she was still behind it.


End file.
